


Shotgun

by Control_Room



Series: The Big Picture [14]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Bad Parenting, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Underage Drug Use, Mention of Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shock, Some Swearing, Step-Brothers, Talking about sexuality, Underage Smoking, brief nongraphic violence, night vale mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24860554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room
Summary: Neither here nor there.
Relationships: Joey Drew & Other(s)
Series: The Big Picture [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1254296
Comments: 7
Kudos: 4





	Shotgun

They met at Atabulus’ funeral. 

One dressed all in sloe and still shell shocked, another in grey gear and grim.

Josef Ricardio was a good foot and a half taller than young Johan Icarus, and looking down at him he made himself felt. Johan swallowed, shrinking into himself, trying  _ to _ cry. He had spent the last week sobbing each night, and now at the time to depart, he could not muster a tear. 

He could not do it. He could not handle it. It was too much. Too loud. Too quiet. Too much. 

He ran out. 

Josef came out right after him. 

“Want a smoke?” he asked the distraught kid, casually holding out the cigarette container he took from his pocket. Johan accepted one, and Josef gave them both a light. Johan was not the most experienced smoker, though Josef noted that he still was quite apt for one so young. Deciding to broach that subject, he asked; “When’d you pick up the habit?” 

“Huh? Oh,” Johan thought a moment, then replied. “My p-papi let me s-smoke when I was four.”

Josef felt his brows raise. 

“And no one had a problem with that?” Josef questioned. Johan shook his head. “Really?”

“Well, m-my madr-”

A hand shoved Johan into the dirt. Josef was scowling down at him, and the cigarette he had given him set some dried grass ablaze. 

“I don’t want to hear about your  _ mother _ , kid.” he snarled. Johan swallowed sharply and nodded, eyes wide. “I don’t want my dad with her. I don’t want anything to do with that bitch. Capisce?”

“P-perfectly,” he stammered, the word rushing from his lips. Josef, still with a scowl on his face, stubbed out his cigarette on the brick wall, dropped the butt by Johan’s feet, and stomped back into the building, slamming the door. Johan let out a shaky exhale that he did not know he was holding in his lungs, sinking back, feeling pain blossoming upwards, the uncomfortability starting in the base of his back. No more shots to make it go away. Curling up, he watched the grass fire put itself out, not enough fuel to keep burning. That was how he felt - burnt and spent. He picked himself up, made sure there was not a speck of dust on his black clothing, and then re-entered the church. His father was not a religious man, but Alessandra insisted on holding the funeral in one. She seemed to hold it above Johan, though he did not quite see the point behind it. So what? He was dead. Johan mumbled soft acceptances of condolences, although he did not really hear them - it was like he was underwater. He bumped into Josef again, and his eyes widened as he hastened to apologize, the words sluggish on his already slow tongue. “I- I- I’m s-so sorry, I d-didn’t mean t-”

“‘Nuf, kid,” Josef gruffly cut him off, fixing the collar of his grey vest. “You really need to gain some confidence. If you keep letting yourself look like a runt, people will treat you like one.”

“Oh,” was all Johan managed to say. He knew Josef’s name, from when his mother introduced him and the brute who killed his father, all with a smiling face, right in this very church at this very funeral. Aside from his name, Johan knew nothing - and now was conflicted. Was he like his father? rough, harsh, brutal? The treatment outside spoke some measures of that. Or was he good aside from moments of anger? The rest of his actions whispered such to Johan. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re a weird kid,” Josef commented, and Johan felt himself blush. “Super weird.”

“Is that a b-bad thing?” Johan questioned, worrying at his lower lip. Josef looked away, then answered with, “Only if you let it be.”

“Ok.” Johan looked to his shoes, polished as always. 

He was a neat child. 

His hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. 

He was a messy kid. 

They were outside again.

When did they get outside?

There was a cigarette in Josef’s fingers.

There was a warm body cuddled to Johan, and he was uncomfortable.

“Rico,” he whispered. The party was not quite fun anymore. It had not been to begin with, in Johan’s eyes. His, now step brother, looked at him. New step brother. This was after their parents wedded. The after party. There was a younger girl next to Johan - though they were both middle school age, she had thought he was a high schooler - and decided to go for him. Johan, too polite to decline, allowed her to sit by him, and sitting turned to leaning. “Rico - can we go?”

Josef - Rico, Ricky, - nodded. They left. 

“Don’t like girls much, huh?” Rico asked after a moment, taking another drag, as he and Johan walked under the starlight. Johan’s footsteps stumbled, he blushed and shrugged. “Eh. I don’t have much of an opinion. Girls, they’re hot and whiny. Boys, they’re hot and dumb. The ones I’ve been with at any rate. So don’t worry too much with me about liking who you like.”

“Thanks,” Johan rasped. The skirt he was wearing sat uncomfortably tight on his hips - and it was relatively new. Growing so fast was a pain, literally and metaphorically. He and Rico were the same height at this point, even though Rico was in ninth grade and Johan was in seventh. “So far I haven’t met anyone I liked. B-but… yeah. Boys catch my eye. Earl and Cecil have been trying to get me to go with them ‘camping’, but I don’t feel that way towards either.”

“Stick to your truth, Joey,” Rico patted his shoulder, then flicked out his cigarette. He offered the rest to Johan, who shook his head. “Not today?”

“Yep. No thanks.”

The two kids were quiet for a bit.

“I wish we had better parents,” Rico muttered. Johan glanced at him, and then sighed. “Me too.”

They stayed away from home that night.


End file.
